


for in that sleep of death what dreams may come

by birdofthesea



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, Everyone is Dead, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Slow Burn, but its okay because they are in heaven
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22393903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdofthesea/pseuds/birdofthesea
Summary: yes, all the les amis died at the barricade. but what if they were all in heaven together and could look down on those who had survived?
Relationships: Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	for in that sleep of death what dreams may come

**Author's Note:**

> hello! I'm not completely sure if I'm going to continue this fic or not, so if you like it make sure to tell me!  
> I also may or may not have written this entirely so I could use that line from Hamlet as the title

There was a hazy room. A god backed against a wall. A shout. A press of a hand against his. Shots. And death.

Was this really what death was like?

The bullets had hit him fast, and his death was over quick. It had been a better death than he had imagined. The only death Grantaire had seen for himself was one that was alcohol induced, probably behind a bar in an alley. But that decision was possibly the most clear headed decision that he had ever made. Yes, granted, he had a pounding headache and was still a little unsteady on his feet. But who was he to leave his Apollo backed against that wall, all alone? 

There were no flames or pitchforks when Grantaire came to, so he could at least assume that he had not gone to hell. In fact, based upon the scenery, he could almost be persuaded that he had not died at all. Almost.

He was standing at the entrance to the backroom of the Musain. The other Les Amis de l’ABC were sitting at the tables all waiting for a meeting to start. A little disoriented, Grantaire crossed the room to his usual corner and sat. There was no absinthe at his seat. A quick glance around the room told him that no one else had a drink either. Was this really heaven without any alcohol? 

But then his Apollo appeared in the doorway. There was no trace of the bullets on his body, almost as if no harm had been done to him. The lack of physical evidence of their deaths was starting to unnerve Grantaire, and then he looked into their leader’s eyes. They appeared calm and collected at first glance, but Grantaire had been looking at him long enough to know the difference. Underneath the mask of the leader, was a young, panicked boy who had just died and did not know what to make of it. 

At one of the other tables, Combeferre and Courfeyrac rose from their seats to greet their friend. Enjolras latched onto Courfeyrac in a hug, and did not let go of him for a moment. Combeferre received a quick hug before Enjolras turned to address the group. 

“Friends, I am sorry that it had to end this way. We were supposed to be the new dawn of France, to lead the people to a better life. The world would have never been the same. I am sorry that I have failed you. You deserved better than a life cut short for change that will not happen. You had your lives ahead of you, where you could have had wives and families. You could have changed the world in other ways and I deeply regret taking that life away from you.”

Enjolras slumped into a chair, dejected. The group sat in stunned shock, not knowing how to handle their leader in such a fragile state. Courfeyrac and Combeferre sat next to Enjolras and talked to him in quick hushed tones. The others started talking amongst themselves. 

Where are we?

Are we really dead at all?

I was so scared. I never wanted to die at all.

I really thought we had a chance.

Of all the Les Amis, Jehan Prouvaire looked the most disappointed of all. No one was particularly pleased to be dead, but he had died first. Jehan had died while there was still hope for a new dawn. The arrival of his friends, while he liked the company, had signified that their revolution was over. The hope for that black night to end was gone. 

However, something seemed off. Not everyone who was on the barricade was here. Grantaire mentioned as much to the others and Feuilly did a quick head count. It was here that the problem was discovered. 

“Marius isn’t here. We are missing Marius.”

Heads swiveled around the room as everyone confirmed Feuilly’s statement. The booby was missing.

“So that must mean that he survived,” Courfeyrac said, happy that at least one of his friends had made it out alive. 

“Yes, but Marius, really?” Combeferre replied. “Of all of us, it had to be him?”

“I wonder,” Jehan began, “angels looking down from heaven is spoken of so often, so I wonder, is it really possible? Is there a way that we could look down upon Marius?”

“We have all the time in the world, don’t we? I am sure that we could find out,” Courfeyrac said.


End file.
